


Dark Water

by MadAndy



Category: Gamma Ray
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6526336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadAndy/pseuds/MadAndy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you can push even the gentlest man too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Water

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Although this tale features characters that share an awful lot of characteristics with the individuals who go to make up the featured rock band, it isn't them. I'm fully aware of that fact; they're completely their own people, and this is a fantasy based on their stage personas, interviews and other material in the public domain. No malice or impeachment is intended to the band, their families, friends, management companies or anyone else involved with them in any way, shape or form. No money is being made from this tale, it's written purely for the enjoyment of the author...and her readers. 
> 
> It's fiction. Enjoy it as such.
> 
> (Written in 2007)

****

_Dark Water_

From his perch on the dock water wound past his feet, silent and slow, mindless in its steady journey to the sea through the expanse of the lake before him. Ripples became waves, the faint light of evening shattered and thrown back to sparkle and dim before finally going out, following the lines of the current to the exit far downstream.

_If I jumped... I wonder how much closer to the sea I would be before they found me?_

Dirk shook his head. No, no matter how appealing that mental image might be right now - his face pale, hair in weedy disarray and clothes blackly soaked with the stinking river, Kai’s grief - he wasn’t that desperate. Or that angry, or that... _anything_ , really. And besides, it would cause far too much pain to far too many people--

_Dammit._

The cigarette end made barely a hiss when he flicked it into the water. He probably shouldn’t - littering and pollution and all - but there was something satisfying about dousing the tiny coal in the power of the wide sweep of water.

He brushed off his jeans, loose dirt from where he’d been sat on the edge of the old wharf, and squared his shoulders against the thin, cold breeze. When he’d stormed out for a smoke (slamming the door behind him) he’d expected Kai to leave right then too; jump in his car, drive away in a cloud of smoke from tyres spun in the frustrated anger left over from their argument. 

But no, there had been nothing, and so he’d sat out here in the early autumn cold, had his cigarette and his sulk in peace, and now he had to go back inside. Even if only to pick up his car keys and jacket, and storm out with rather more finality this time. He sighed, and began the short walk back to the newly-outfitted studio that they should be working in, not arguing over.

Feet soft on the new carpets - _no expense spared_ , said his mind, and his lip curled at the thought - Dirk made his way back through to the sound desk, where he’d left his jacket and keys. Hopefully he wouldn’t stumble across Kai; he’d had a gut full of contention for today, and really didn’t think he could stomach much more. 

Before he could just grab his jacket and go, however, he heard a very familiar voice. Kai, on the phone, complaining bitterly.

About him.

Dirk stopped, leaned against the wall. _You never hear anything good about yourself when you eavesdrop_ , said his conscience in a rather prim voice. 

He told it to shut up, and edged closer to the door.

“... well yes I know! But there was no need for him to go off like that - fuck no, it’s not like that. Can I help it if I’m more in demand than he is? Henjo and Dan aren’t bitching, are they?”

Dirk felt something hot and red begin to build in his chest. _We’re supposed to be working, so what do you do? Fuck off to perform with your old pals from Helloween, or new pals in another band, or anyone at all - anything except do your goddamn job._

“Fuck, what? Yes. Yeah, really. He thinks I’m slacking off.”

Fury. Yes. That was a good word for it.

“It’s not like he’s got anything else _to_ do. And that’s hardly my fault, is it?”

That hot red burn, all a-creep up his spine and starting a vicious tingle in his earlobes. Not his fault? Of course not. Who had bullied and pushed and insisted that _his_ band be the centre of everyone’s world? Driven away friends and family and lovers until there was nothing left but Gamma Ray?

“Bah, I know. Yeah. So now he’s getting all angry because he thinks I’m not taking it seriously enough. Like I haven’t just paid for the new studio--”

_All on your own eh, Kai? Because the rest of us were never anything more than a convenience...._

“--what? Yes I’m sure. Fuck, don’t you start--”

If someone had taken a picture of Dirk in the infra-red right now, he was fairly sure that he would show up white. Like in those pictures they show on the TV when the police use heat-intensifying cameras to find bad guys in the bushes. That was it. He was the bad guy in the bushes, and Kai had better watch what he said next, because Dirk was just about at the end of his patience with the little shit.

“Anyway. When he comes back I’m going to tell him, you can be sure of that--”

With a line like that, what could he do but shove the door open with a bang and stride in?

Kai’s eyes widened; he was many things but stupid was certainly not one of them, and Dirk’s expression told him all he needed to know. 

“Yeah, I gotta go. Bye--”

Long fingers plucked the phone from Kai’s hand, flicked it shut with a snap that rang around the empty studio.

“Dirk, I--”

_“Shut up_ ,” was all he said, grey eyes now the colour of flint and voice ground tight to a snarl. Fury burned along his veins, gave his muscles strength; adrenaline was wonderful stuff, it could give a woman the strength to lift a car from a child, or a man the power to fling his friend and boss and lover clear across a studio with one push. Kai stumbled from the force of the shove, turned with anger now snapping in his own eyes.

He never even had chance to open his mouth, though. Dirk strode forward, shoulders hunched and teeth ground, grabbed the first thing that came to hand. His bass, actually, and he snatched it up and flipped it over, yanked the cable from it and flung it aside to land with a horribly loud crash.

The anger faded from Kai’s expression to be replaced by something far, far more gratifying.

_Fear._

Dirk swung the cable and it hissed through the air, a vicious swish a bare inch from Kai’s face. He flinched back, and collided with the wall. Nowhere to go, and from the quick, hunted glance he threw over Dirk’s shoulder he was certainly thinking about escape - but Dirk had him cornered. 

Hands raised in a placating gesture he stepped forward, still convinced (despite the fear) that old patterns would reassert, that this would stop after no more than a flare of temper from the calm, easygoing, shy bassist that he’d dominated for so long. Since the first moment they’d met, that spark when they’d shaken hands, the conversations and the jam sessions and the long, slow explorations in the dark....

The crack when the back of Dirk’s hand impacted his cheek was loud in the studio, the marvellous acoustics deadening it without removing a shred of power from the sound. Kai hit the ground in a daze, shook his head to clear it, dabbed the back of his hand to his mouth and stared at the thin stream of blood he found there. 

Over him Dirk growled, clenched his fists, and wondered if there would ever be any going back after this point.

Apparently not. The next thing he found himself doing was falling to his knees, and despite the way his hands shook they were skilful on the slick cable, swift to drag Kai’s hands behind his back and cross them. Twist and fold, the wire core that could transmit the pound of his bass just as useful when it came to tying down a rather more organic pulse, pull and jerk to finish the knot and now he could sit back on his heels and eye his handiwork.

The other man twisted, face red when he turned to glare over one strained shoulder at his tormentor.

“You sick fuck. I’ve got a good mind to fucking fire you--”

Something in Dirk broke at that point. Everything he’d ever been through at the hands of this man, everything he’d sacrificed, everything he’d lost came back to him in a rush. Even Kai had to have seen it, because the bravado failed and he flinched, hunched away from the violence he knew was coming--

Another cable, this one snatched from the another instrument close by - God alone knew what, or whose, such things had ceased to matter - and Dirk swung it, hard. 

The crack it made when it hit Kai’s bent shoulders was satisfying in the extreme, but not as satisfying as the swift-muffled cry that accompanied it.

Again the cable rose and fell, and again. Dirk saw faces, remembered situations and the pain of lovers abandoned, the humiliation of realising that he’d been replaced by Henjo not only on stage but in Kai’s life, in his bed, every slight and every single emotional stick that Kai had ever used to beat and control and dominate him now repaid in full. He only stopped when his arm ached and his chest burned from the thick pants of exertion; Kai had curled into a ball, head down to protect it from the merciless lash of the cable wielded by this fury, this stranger who wore the face of his friend.

It had always been the other way around, always Dirk protecting himself against Kai’s anger when he’d been thwarted. Now the boot was on the other foot, and to his astonishment he could see Kai rubbing his thighs together, the bulge in the front of his jeans unmistakable. And he wasn’t the only one; something in the sweat and the exertion and the sheer anger had stirred his blood too, and his own cock throbbed in time with the beat of his heart. And he’d come this far....

When he grabbed for Kai, began to pull at his jeans those eyes flared wide once more with fear.

“Lube, Dirk, for the love of God--”

Oh, the power. The heady rush of it through his body, the swirl in his veins and the pulse of it in his cock. _Is this what it’s like to be you?_

“My bag, Dirk. Please!”

Heaved up by his bound hands and flung across a bass cabinet, pinned down in silence - except for the wash of Dirk’s breath, hot and desperate across the back of his neck - jeans tugged and yanked, dragged away from his body until he was naked from the waist down. 

Lube? Good idea. But let the little fucker writhe for a moment--

“I should fuck you dry,” Dirk growled, long body pressed against his prey, and Kai arched up into him with a whimper and another flood of almost-incoherent pleas for mercy, for sanity, for more.

Two quick strides and he reached the bag, upended it, never once daring to stop and think. Because if he allowed thought into the equation then this would stop right here, and he would crawl away with his tail between his legs as he’d done so often in the past. Beaten by Kai, metaphorically if not physically, forced to accept a lower position in the pack, bowed beneath the alpha male--

_Never again._

Anticipation burned in those eyes when he turned back, a leer of lust that shaded once more to fear when Dirk strode back, shoved Kai’s head down hard enough to make him yelp. No gentle opening, no careful caresses, nothing tender about this; even though his hands shook so hard he was sure he wouldn’t be able to get his own jeans open he still, somehow, managed it. Slicked up his cock that ached so for the beaten heat that trembled before him, and forced it in. 

It hurt. It hurt him, his foreskin tugged back hard by the brutal squeeze of entry, and from the howl under his chest it had to be agony for Kai - but he bucked his hips back, panted foam from the corners of his mouth down over his chin and begged for more. Dirk curled his body, pinned him down, bit at his neck.

_This_ was power. _This_ was revenge. If he never did this again, if he never got another slice of Kai this was going to be the one abiding memory - his tormentor, his lover, his nemesis and his salvation crushed beneath the weight of his body, writhing on his cock and pleading for more, harder. One hand held the squirming body down by the cable so tightly wrapped around those wrists, and the fingers of the other tangled in the fiery redness of that hair and yanked, forced his back into an arch that had him screaming.

Pain of muscles forced beyond any sane limits vanished in the fire that consumed them both, the white heat of the rage that had begun to burn so long ago finally loosed to scorch them both until with a scream through clenched teeth Dirk came, pumped his hips to smash into Kai with a force that threatened to tumble them both to the ground.

Whiteout, fade to black, falling into the darkness--

\--and lost.

~*~

He swung his boots above the water, and watched the current play with the items it had found along the banks. Bits of rubbish, branches, dead leaves. All being swept away, the ceaseless movement of the water renewing the scenery all the time - even if, to the casual observer, nothing changed at all.

Dirk puffed on his cigarette, took the smoke deep then let it trickle past his lips to catch the last rays of the setting sun, and smiled.

“Dirk! Hey, Dirk!”

He cocked his head, angled himself to catch sight of the man who waved and called him from the car park in front of the studio. Henjo, all afire to begin work - as Kai had been, once he’d got over the shock. He’d tidied up the studio, never said a word to anyone about the damage, but they’d arranged to begin recording the very next week. Funny, that.

A wave of his hand seemed to satisfy the other man, and Dirk scrambled to his feet and flicked the cigarette end into the water. The river extinguished it with a faint hiss, and he watched the paper unravel from the filter as the waves tumbled it away, toward the sea and eventual oblivion.

Nothing ever stayed the same. 

Dirk turned his back on the river, and headed into the studio.

_~ Fin ~_


End file.
